


stag hag

by blowhard



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Asian-American Character, Barebacking, Creampie, Infidelity, Las Vegas, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Spitroasting, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Stripping, drug/alcoholic impairment but no dubious consent, frat little kink, written in 2013 so tw: ot12 lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blowhard/pseuds/blowhard
Summary: In which Junmyeon throws his bachelor party /after/ his wedding and Suho is there to celebrate. (asian-am frat au in vegas)





	stag hag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garyindistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garyindistress/gifts).



> written in 2013. this is the complete opposite of the last (non-exo) thing i posted on this website

"You can."

 

And she can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious.” Diana hardly ever is. “You hardly ever are.” If Junmyeon could even pinpoint enough times on one hand when she had been appropriately serious then maybe that misunderstanding with her father during the weddi—

 

She already knows what he’s about to say so she cuts him off mid-thought to sentence. “But on one condition.”

 

And Junmyeon just stares at her, a grotesque look of bewilderment and unsure happiness slapped across his face, a Picasso painting of classic confusion. Diana, as usual, stares back, an eyebrow quirked unimpressively at her husband.

 

“You can’t invite any women.”

 

–

 

Junmyeon is a reasonable man, always has been. That’s why when he realized that his quarterly report was due on the same weekend as his bachelor party, he decided to forego the tradition for the sake of a promotion and got married, like, two weeks later. Then, in an unsurprising turn of events, when all the guys at the water cooler and at brotherhood events bully him about being so whipped that they might start calling Diana and him “Pontius Pilate and Jesus,” he decides to bring it up to her. Fortunately, Di had been meaning to bring up some plans to him anyway, quickly describing a three-day music festival trip with her girls in the Vegas desert aptly titled "Electric Drug Carnival," if his memory served him right.

 

That’s how he finds himself turnt the fuck up in the wraparound suite of a hotel that his bro Kris—the respected gentlemen of Sigma Mu, Theta EXOllence class, nobody harder —owns with the rest of his pledge class and a few colleagues. The entire suite smells a little like weed too strong for men their age, as if for this one night they could pretend railing lines off of glass tables and shotgunning beers was normal again, as if Kris continuously calling room service in for more liquor didn’t mean they would all wake up on the floor tomorrow morning clutching their stomachs and cursing their entire existences.

 

But Junmyeon is a reasonable man. His bachelor party was as much an escape for them as it was a celebration for him, what with everyone stuck in their steady relationships and their stable non-drug testing careers (because the smartest businesses accept that drug abuse comes with success). So Junmyeon—rather, Suho, his college-student-at-heart and severely intoxicated alter ego—decides to make his final appearance as a pseudo-single male, throwing back shot after shot, stuffing a coke bullet in his right nostril as he's choking down his beer.

 

However, when the party hears an unexpected knock, Junmyeon’s heart drops. Somewhere through the haze he thinks he remembers insisting to Chanyeol, insisting to Kris that he couldn’t have strippers and the last thing he’d want to do is upset Di, of course—when Chan opens the door to a police officer. Not just any police officer, either; this guy is at least six feet tall, broad shoulders leading to a tapered waist, dark skin, dark eyes, looking like he’d seen Some Things in his life. The 5-0 cocks his head.

 

Kris’ (huge) jaw drops and the entire party is frozen, momentarily shocked into a snapshot of irresponsibility, topshelf liquor dripping into cocktail puddles on the granite tile, little trails of coke gracing tabletops, traces of Special K on the smooth skin where Lu Han’s thumb connects to his index finger. His “oh, fuck me” stage whisper is loud enough to snap everyone to attention, scrambling to hide the visible illegal substances strewn about.

 

Scowling, the cop steps in, slapping his nightstick menacingly against his opposite hand as he surveys the fucking shitshow of the week. “Who’s in charge here?” he asks, his eyes boring holes into each of the men in varying states of intoxication. Junmyeon can’t believe this is happening. How can this be happening to him? So he gets up to get out, get away, when the narc whips his head to stop him. “Sir, stop where you are right now and sit your ass down.”

 

Junmyeon wants to die. Hella years, man, he’s worked hella years to be where he is now. Ignoring the soul-searching experimental mess—yes, experimental in the way that he hasn’t even considered talking to to Di about—he was in college, he’s a fucking external auditor at Deloitte and married to a statistical analyst that already makes more money than he does. He’s made his parents proud and his dog loves him a whole lot. Most of his furniture isn’t even from Ikea anymore and he managed to buy a house in a neighborhood where a good percentage of his neighbors are still white. He was going places. How did it come to this, he thinks as he slumps down into the nearest chair.

 

The policeman strides over to him, boots thumping loudly on the floor, and Junmyeon swears with each step he watches his future dissolve into brutal assfuckings at the local county prison. And for what? Some ketamine? A little coke? The policeman is now looming over him, nicely shaped eyebrows furrowed on his smooth forehead. Junmyeon sobs. “Sir, I’m gonna have to arrest you,” and Junmyeon slumps forward a little, head hung, and hands held out in submission, “but, I’m gonna tell you your rights first.” Junmyeon stays tipped forward, eyes shut, and he swears he hears someone snicker. Well, that’s nice. At least his final moments of Actual Freedom are entertaining to someone.

 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Junmyeon hears snapping and buckles or whatever. That must be the handcuffs. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” More snapping, and a little bit of rustling. Maybe he put his nightstick away. “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

 

Junmyeon shakes his head sadly and raises his hands again to be handcuffed.

 

“Oh, no, sir. I think you do wish to speak to me,” the officer corrects, and Junmyeon’s eyes fly open as the nice eyebrows man grabs his wrists and places them on his bare hips, hardly covered by his low slung leather pants and vest. He vaguely wonders when the cop had managed to take his shirt off from beneath his vest when he notices that Kris’ scandalized expression from earlier was actually amusement, not fear and the rest of the guys are struggling to keep themselves from screaming.

 

“Fuck all y’all,” Junmyeon yells to the roar of laughter in the room as the cop straddles him, hips swaying from side to side like some sort of sexy pendulum. The relief alone is enough to send him to half-chub, but the playful growl in his ear and the tight ass bouncing in his lap take him to that unspeakable place in an instant.

 

“Call me Tao,” the cop says, his mouth brushing the shell of his ear as he speaks, prominent nose rubbing into the little spot behind his ear and Junmyeon has to grip the sides of his own slacks tightly to restrain himself because Suho just wants a little taste of that kitten-like mouth. Tao doesn’t notice (thank god) and pulls back, still undulating his hips, and lifts the vest over his head in one swift motion. Guess he really isn’t a cop after all.

 

“Did I get him right? Is Mr. Scared Gay the bachelor for tonight?” Tao steps off of Junmyeon to introduce himself to the rest of the party, pouring drinks for each of them as he goes. Lu Han and the two young-looking guys seem nice enough, a little sedated, if anything. There’s a dude with small hands and thick thighs who might have alcohol poisoning but he’s not sure if the dazed look is normal and if the extreme redness is just Asian glow. Chen and Xiumin, two clearly Korean men with unusually Chinese nicknames, are friendly and with handles gripped tightly in their fists, they kindly spout alcohol directly into his mouth. Sweet of them, really. There’s another group of guys sitting together, two small judgey types surrounding a tall gangly motherfucker who doesn’t miss a chance to throw some lewd comment about his ass and then another rude slur when he doesn’t respond accordingly. Tao lets him grab his ass anyway, always liked the “more than incidentally homosexual” types at school, too, thought it was nice to see those closeted types begging for it by the end of a good night one way or the other.

 

He slinks into Kris’ lap, purring, “Thanks for the gig, daddy~,” tildes apparent in his speech and all. Kris turns away from him, embarrassed, and discreetly whispers under his breath, “Not now!” Tao just rolls his eyes and hops off. Kris shifts uncomfortably for a moment before getting up to pour himself a drink, and Tao knows he’s still got him. Of course. There are more people around but he can’t be bothered to meet them, didn’t seem good-looking enough to be in Junmyeon’s close circle anyway, so he gets on with his job.

 

–

 

The night goes on accordingly, men straight hammered like they haven’t been in years, some passing out on couches and tables with drinks still in their hands. The dozen or more still standing decide to play the frat fave game “Chug” which ends up with a sufficiently drunk Tao, a thoroughly twisted Junmyeon, and the rest in various states of intoxication depending on which drug cocktails they had taken.

 

Kris and Chen exchange glances as Junmyeon’s head lolls around his neck. Yeah, he was good to go. “Junmyeon. Hey. Bro. Jun. Junmyeon. Myeon.” Kris snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Suho,” he says firmly, and Suho cracks an eye open, a fiendish smirk gracing his face. “You still haven’t gotten your private dance yet.” Tao snorts in the background as Suho is pulled to his feet and is all but thrown into the master bedroom by his bros, followed by an explosive music volume increase as the door closes. Sounds like hardstyle is back, Suho thinks as a slightly swaying Tao creeps through the doorway. Such thoughtful bros.

 

“So, Junmyeon.” Suho plops down on the couch, looking thoroughly hammered, body swaying as Tao saunters over to him, undoing his pants. “What’ll it be, big boy?”

 

“Suho. Call me Suho. And anything,” Suho hiccups. “I can take it.” Tao gets comfortable in his lap, his knees placed on both sides of the older man’s hips and the scent of someone else’s expensive cologne and alcohol breath overwhelms him. It’s dizzying, is what it is, the familiar combination of scents reminding him of those unresolved “senior lab reports.”

 

(Hypothesis: If drinking enough beer makes my little bro look attractive, then maybe I should stop drinking beer. That experiment went well enough; he remembers burying a hand in the hair at the nape of Chen’s neck as he felt a shaky moan of “big bro” against his lips and along his tongue. They never talked about it, so Junmyeon felt the results were inconclusive and continued to drink too much beer at parties anyway.)

 

Tao leads Suho’s hands down his chest as he body rolls in his lap. Suho’s hands roam around his back for awhile before he pulls Tao down to suck bruises into his neck. Tao giggles cutely. “You wanna just skip the lap dance and get to main event, ‘Suho’?”

 

“I get more? It's not even my birthday,” mumbles Suho against the heated skin, grabbing a handful of Tao’s ass before twisting him around and pushing him towards the bed. Tao’s pants hit the floor as he looks over his shoulder, watching Suho undress. “What?”

 

“I’m just surprised," at the Rihanna reference you just made, Tao wants to say, but dismisses it. "You were so scared when I busted through the door, I didn’t figure you for bisexual or anything.” Suho shrugs, standing drunkenly proud in his boxer-briefs.

 

“It’s not really something the fraternity speaks about flippantly. We’re respected and respectful gentlemen. Now come here,” he says, pulling a buck naked Tao to the bed in a surprisingly chaste kiss. Tao ends up on top, pressing open mouthed kisses down Suho’s jaw, chest, and quite quickly to the band of his boxers, admiring his defined adonis belt. He slides the boxers off of his hips and Suho’s cock slaps his belly with a satisfying smack, a bead of precome sliding off his tip. Mouth already watering, Tao takes no time in licking a fat wet stripe up the underside of his cock and swallowing as much of him as he can in one go, nestling his nose in the musky hair at the base. Tao’s busy, working his throat around Suho’s dick when he’s tapped on the shoulder. He pulls off wetly, letting his saliva drip around his fingers and the cock in his hand. Suho makes a swirling movement with his hand and Tao is confused until Suho points directly at him and makes the motion again.

 

It’s cute, the sign language they’re using, like they’re ashamed to say “You want me to suck your cock like this?” or “I need your ass in front of my face” but Tao gets it. Damn, that Suho is freaky. So he begins sucking his cock again, this time with his ass placed conveniently above Suho’s face. Tao’s pleasantly surprised when Suho pads a slick fingertip around his hole and slips it oh-so-softly knuckle deep, shallowly thrusting in and out.

 

Tao begins to mouth “you don’t have to be so gentle” around his dick when Suho crooks his finger so suddenly that Tao yelps, body tensing instinctively. He cranes his neck down to swirl his tongue appreciatively around the head when they hear laughter coming from the bathroom.

 

“Hey, homos! Y’all bein’ gay in there?” yells Chanyeol, him and Baekhyun’s maniacal laughter and seal clapping rumbling through the door when it flies open, the two men tumbling out, white residue peppered around their nostrils. Baekhyun’s eyes widen to the size of golfballs when he sees Suho’s situation before he hurriedly dips out, apologizing profusely and saying he’ll never mention it again. Chanyeol, on the other hand, stays. “Real gay, bro.”

 

Shameless, Suho continues sliding his fingers in and out of Tao, who mewls embarrassedly. “What about you and Baek? What were you two doing in the bathroom?”

 

Chanyeol smirks. “True. I was snorting coke off of his dick. Typical Theta House roommate shit.”

 

“Real gay, bro.”

 

Chanyeol narrows his eyes. “You’re the one who’s married and letting some cheap whore suck your cock.”

 

“I resent that,” says Tao, reluctantly leading his ass away from Suho’s hands. “First of all, I got paid a lot to be here. Second of all, I saw that little guy you were with. You let him order you around normally?” Tao remembers now, this is the same tall asshole out there who spoke to him earlier like he was above him but grabbed his ass like spring break Miami. “You snort coke off of that dick?”

 

“Are you fuckin’ challenging me right now?”

 

Tao stares defiantly at him, and starts going down on Suho again.

 

“Move,” he says, pushing Tao to the side. He’s seriously not about to let some stripper shit all over his skills, especially not in front of his big bro. Gotta keep the line strong, Chaebol Prince line represent.

 

Tao just gawks at him. “So, what. You’re all in a gay frat or something?”

 

Chanyeol slurps loudly, mostly for show. “Nah. Not gay,” and cocks his head so Suho’s dick pokes an outline through his cheek. Tao doesn’t like this mother fucker, but okay, he’ll play this game, he thinks as he tongues Suho’s sac.

 

Suho is fucking fucked up. He’s sure of it. His head spins hard as he squints at the figures bent over his legs, practically fighting to suck his dick into their mouths. Yep, there must have been something about those shrooms because while he was certain he was gonna bang a stripper tonight, the other figure perched over his other thigh is his little bro, Chanyeol. Something about little bros just gets him, man. Something...

 

The fake bachelor’s thoughts are drifting and Tao has to give Chanyeol some Xanga E-props. He does know how to suck dick. A little too well for someone “not gay,” to be honest, but he’s not really interested in getting to know him any better regardless. Chanyeol pops off Suho’s dick with a haughty smile. Gross. He can tell Tao's impressed with him.

 

“Yeah, okay. But can you take it,” provokes Tao, shooting back with a snarky grin.

 

“You honestly think I can’t take it?”

 

“I honestly don’t think anything." A blatant lie. "I’m just asking.”

 

Chanyeol scoffs and walks to the coffee table with his head held high, dropping a credit card, baggie, and rolled up bill on the glass. “Let me show you a thing,” he says, and preps a few lines. Chanyeol does an extra long one and grips the table to balance himself.

 

That last bump definitely sent Chanyeol reeling, unsteady when he pulls his shirt and pants off, a new wobble to his elbows and knees as he props himself up between Tao’s thighs, ass up in Suho’s hands.

 

“You really don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know,” says Tao matter-of-factly as he absently cards a hand through Chanyeol’s matted hair.

 

“Fuck you,” he says, pressing his ass flush against Suho’s dick, sliding Tao’s foreskin down and dribbling spit all over his cock like he has something to prove. Predictable. Tao tugs experimentally on Chanyeol’s hair when his lips reach the hilt and he groans, baring his pretty teeth, scraping them hard along his shaft. Excellent.

 

Meanwhile, Suho’s already rolled a condom on, got Chanyeol prepped, and slides inside with slight resistance. It’s probably been a few years since Chanyeol’d been bedded this way, what with his faux machismo and unbreakable pride. Chanyeol would never tell Tori about his analplay thing, Suho muses idly as he sinks deeper inside, the younger man pushing back like he already can’t get enough of his dick.

 

Chanyeol's amped like a mother fucker, heart fucking begging to jump out of his chest, so he growls around Tao and starts shouting obscenities, white teeth flashing against the purple-red swell of his slick cock. “Fuck my ass like you mean it, you married piece of shit. Yeah, you fucking like it when I bite your cock, you freaky slut? Ooh, fuck yes, right there you mother fucker, ream me, big bro—” he yells, only stopping to lick hungrily at Tao again. Talk about repressed.

 

Chanyeol’s upper half collapses a few good thrusts in, his face pressed into Tao’s pelvis as he jerks him off in the same rhythm as Suho’s fucking into him. Suho, the ever responsible big, reaches around to tug Chanyeol’s neglected cock, and Chanyeol comes soundlessly between them, eyes glassed over in drugged-out contentment. His hand drops moments later and Tao notices he’s unconscious, how anticlimactic. “Suho. Your boy’s passed out.” Looks like he couldn’t take it after all, he thinks as they carry the sleeping man to the couch. Asshole. “You still good to go, though?” he asks, peering over blanket-wrapped Chanyeol and at Suho’s still hard cock. Suho takes his condom off and tosses it.

 

“I’m not that old, Tao, god,” he says, picking up a tightly rolled $100 bill and snorting one of the lines Chanyeol had helpfully prepared before he unceremoniously passed out mid-fuck. “Better than ever, actually.” He tosses the rolled up bill to Tao, who bends over and rails the other line.

 

“Sexy,” purrs Tao, nose feeling iced numb, delicious high coursing in his blood. He hops on the bed, bouncing cutely before he squeezes lube all over his fingers and spreads his legs wide, working himself open on three fingers. Suho spits into his hand and jerks himself to the gratuitous display, Tao fucking himself on the hand beneath him.

 

“Get on your knees and face the mirror,” says Suho, his voice low and gravelly with lust. Tao just giggles again.

 

“I didn’t know you could be so rough, Mr. Kim,” Tao whines, ass held high in the air as he watches Suho mount him from behind in the mirror. Suho smoothes a hand down Tao’s back as he teases him, putting just the tip in, leaning back when Tao tries to fuck himself on his dick. “Suho, come on,” Tao demands, and he firmly grasps Tao’s hip and the back of his neck as he slips in easy, the squelch pleasing to his ears. Tao sighs blissfully, finally filled up after a less than graceful interruption from his newest friend. He props his chin up on one hand, admiring Suho’s face in the reflection. “You like to watch?”

 

Suho’s transfixed on the mirror, staring mostly at Tao’s face. “Yeah, I do, actually. But hey,” Suho still fucking Tao at a relaxed, leisurely pace, “I really thought I was gonna be arrested earlier. That’s a pretty convincing routine you have there.”

 

Tao looks into Suho’s reflected eyes. “I was wearing leather pants and a paintball vest with ‘POLICE’ spray painted on crookedly, are you kidding me?”

 

“There’s a lot more drugs out there and in me than you think, okay.”

 

Tao smiles sweetly at the response as Suho rubs circles on his ass cheek. “I like to watch too, actually. Think we’d be a pretty good looking couple if you weren’t married.”

 

On “married,” Suho drives forward unexpectedly, Tao’s last syllable enunciated by a short yelp. Tao feels him speed up a bit, and curious, he prods a little more. “So, when exactly was the marriage?”

 

Suho tightens his grip on his hip. “Last month, in Newport Beach. At the Ritz-Carlton. A nice little reception and her parents like me enough.” He shifts a bit on his knees, somehow finding another angle to bury himself deeper inside of Tao.

 

“Yeah?” Ooh, Tao felt that one. And that one. He’s beginning to see a trend here. “Where is she now? And why is your bachelor party after your marriage?”

 

“She’s...” Suho’s pelvis smacks obscenely against Tao’s ass. “She’s out with friends. I’m not sure exactly where. And...” Tao’s grinding his ass back into him, trying to get more and more of him inside. “She wanted me to have the party because something came up before.” Suho’s voice is straining in exertion. “She's best I could ask for, really.”

 

Tao glares at Suho's reflection in a blatant dare. “Then, why are you here, fucking my ass open? Why are you fucking my tight little ass when you have a wife back home?" Suho's head drops. Tao isn't sure it's in shame or concentration and pushes on. "You fucking nasty loser, what would she say to you if she found out you were in your friend’s hotel, getting sucked off by your little bro, huh? Fucking me open while watching in a mirror?" Suho flattens him into the mattress, Tao’s body held straight, cock rutting into the Egyptian cotton as he slams into him. Ooh. "You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve shit.”

 

Suho wraps a hand around Tao’s neck, and Tao grins through his gritted teeth. “You fucking love it, you like choking me out?” Suho’s grip tightens on his neck. “Yeah, you do, you sad fuck. I can take it. I can take your cock, you disgusting asshole. Tell me how much you fucking love it.” Suho breathes out a strangled moan.

 

“I... I—” Suho’s still slamming into him at a ruthless pace. Tao’s loving this angle, Suho plugging him with reckless abandon, pressing directly into his sweet spot with every thrust. He manages to shove a hand down to grasp his own leaking cock before Suho growls out, “I fucking love it, you little slut,” and digs his nails into Tao’s throat.

 

Tao comes fucking hard, body burning from overstimulation, and wails an anguished cry loud enough to stir Chanyeol from his drug-induced stupor. He shifts uncomfortably in his blanket, and groans a “Big bro...” before passing out again, a leg draped haphazardly over the back of the couch.

 

And that’s when he fucking blows it, balls deep inside of Tao, Tao milking his cock with his muscles, the tangible warmth seeping through his insides. Tao chuckles, petting Suho’s hair as he lays slumped on his back, head hanging off of his shoulder. “Wow, you’re actually pretty freaky, Junmyeon.”

 

Breathless, Junmyeon says, “Nah, son. I think I’m pretty reasonable.”


End file.
